How the Badger Courts the Snake
by CokeBottleK
Summary: She was a Slytherin, he was a Hufflepuff. She was a Black, he was a Muggle-born. They shouldn't have been together at all. But they just couldn't help themselves.
1. The Argument

**DISCLAIMER: Setting, characters, etc., by JKR. Cover art and inspiration by burdge-bug.**

_Thought I'd try my hand at some Andromeda/Ted. It's a deviation from my usual Jily, but I couldn't help myself because if you don't love Tedromeda, well, then, you're wrong. As of right now, this project won't span more than five (very likely short) chapters. _

_For any of my ARE trilogy readers – DON'T WORRY, I'm not abandoning any of my other projects. Jily is still happening. I'm just trying to get out of this fanfiction rut, and I thought some Tedromeda would help. I at least had to get the idea out of my head and onto paper._

_Read, review! ;D –K. _

* * *

__**1. The Argument  
**

_And still I can't let you be  
Most nights I hardly sleep  
Don't take what you don't need from me  
It's just a drop in the ocean  
A change in the weather  
I was praying that you and me might end up together…  
– Ron Pope –_

* * *

A chill October breeze swept its way across the grounds, ruffling the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and upsetting the gentle waves of the lake. Fallen leaves skittered over the courtyard and a few owls swooped overhead, starting their evening's journeys early. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, bleeding red and orange, shooting pink and gold streaks through the darkening sky.

No matter how dim the lighting, though, Andromeda Black kept walking, her eyes scanning the letter her sister Bellatrix had sent to her that morning. She'd read it half a dozen times, and each time that little frown line between her brows creased deeper and her mouth tightened so that she was sure a time would come when she'd never smile again.

_Damn it, Bella…_

So absorbed in the letter and her own irritation as she was, Andromeda didn't notice the gaggle of boys hanging around one of the low walls of the courtyard. She didn't see the lot of them encouragingly shove another as she passed, nor did she see the boy in question shake his mop of dark gold hair out of his eyes and slide off the wall, and she didn't see the conspiratorial wink he shot his sniggering friends, either. If Andromeda Black had seen any of that, rest assured that she would have taken precautionary steps to avoid what was coming, considering the dark mood that had lingered ever since that morning's owl post.

As it was, though, she didn't see any of it, so she couldn't help what happened next.

"Hey, Andy."

"Ugh!" Andromeda spun around and whacked the floppy-haired boy over the head. "How many times – _how many, Ted?_ – do I have to tell you not. To. Call. Me. _Andy_." She accompanied each word with another resounding whack to his head.

"You clearly haven't told me enough," Ted Tonks said with a lopsided grin. He straightened to his full height so Andromeda couldn't reach his head anymore. "D'you mind stifling that temper, though, you're _this_ close to giving me a concussion."

Andromeda huffed impatiently and turned on her heel, stalking off without another word, but Ted had always loved to tease her so he followed, tripping a little in his haste and stooping a bit to try and get a better look at her face.

"Aw, what's wrong?" he asked, failing to keep the laughter out of his voice.

"You," Andromeda lied. Her fingers flexed over the letter in her hand so the parchment crinkled. "Has it ever been any answer other than _you_?"

"Hmmm…" Ted smacked his lips together, pretending to think about it. "You didn't seem to think I was so much of a problem last night, if I recall correctly."

Andromeda turned abruptly again to punch him in the gut, but Ted only laughed. She glowered up at him. He'd always been so much taller and stronger than she was, and for some reason it annoyed her. But maybe it was just that everything was annoying her right then, and since she couldn't take it out on Bella, well, she supposed Ted would have to do.

"Well, tonight you are my problem," she snapped, her knuckles whitening as she clutched her sister's letter. She kept walking. "So bugger off."

"Hey –" Ted quickened his pace to keep up with her. He caught her arm but she shook him off and walked faster, rounding a corner so they were out of sight of his friends. "Come on, 'Dromeda, what's the matter? Seriously this time."

"I was serious the last time," Andromeda said, then sighed, halting her steps and pushing a hand through her thick chestnut hair. She toyed with the letter, ripping at the edges a bit. "Sort of."

Ted's eyes dropped to the parchment in her twitchy hands and his expression darkened. It wasn't a terribly difficult puzzle to put together, when he stopped to think about it for a second; perhaps he would have figured it out sooner, too, if he hadn't been so hell-bent on flirting with his sort-of girlfriend. At least, he _thought_ she was his sort-of girlfriend. He'd been meaning to ask about their situation (for lack of a better word), but now, well…

"Oh" was all he could think of to say.

"Right." Andromeda kept her eyes on the creased parchment, marred by her older sister's harsh penmanship. She took a deep breath. "I guess – Cissy, you know, she's been on me about – this – for awhile, but I ignored her, mostly, told her she was only fourteen and she didn't know what she was on about. She didn't like that, and now…"

_Are you mad?_ Bellatrix's inked words had demanded of her all day. _I don't know what you're thinking, if what Cissy says is true. You can't actually be with a Mudblood. You wouldn't dare. Do you have any idea what this will mean for you, for our family? I thought you had more sense. Just wait until Mother finds out, she'll knock some into you if you can't do it yourself. Don't be stupid._

And on and on and on. It had really only gotten worse from there.

She _had_ been stupid, though, Andromeda thought then. So stupid. She'd thought she and Ted had been subtle, inconspicuous for the most part, but of course they hadn't been. She was a Slytherin, he was a Hufflepuff. She was a Black, he was a Muggle-born. She smiled too much, he'd winked too many times, and they both laughed too loudly when they were together. They shouldn't have been together at all – they shouldn't have looked a little too longingly or touched a little too playfully. They shouldn't have studied in the library or walked down the High Street or done anything except act like the other didn't exist. That was how it was supposed to be.

But they just couldn't help themselves.

"Oh," Ted said again when Andromeda had trailed off. Even though she still wasn't looking at him, he nodded at the letter in her hands. "Could – can I read it?"

"What?" Andromeda looked up, startled. She crumpled the parchment up and tried to stuff it in her pocket, but Ted was too quick for that; he'd grabbed her hands and was trying to pry the letter away. "No, come on, I don't want you to see –"

"It can't be anything worse than anything I've heard before." Ted tried to keep his tone light as he tugged at her hands, but she wasn't relenting. "Now, see, _you_ come on. Don't be stupid, let me –"

"I'm not stupid!" Andromeda jerked her hands out of Ted's and glared at him, her dark eyes smoldering. She didn't care that she'd thought the same thing just a moment ago; she didn't need to hear it from anybody else. "Don't call me that."

Ted glared right back at her, his temper all but shot in the last five minutes. He'd had it with this, with the secrets and Andromeda's goddamn family. Everyone knew that Ted – loud, funny, pitiably besotted Ted Tonks – had always wanted more from Andromeda Black than she could possibly give him, and he didn't want them to be proven right just because her family was forcing her to have misgivings. He was just so _tired_ of pretending that he was okay, that this was okay, that being friends and stealing kisses in deserted corridors was okay. Because it wasn't okay and it wasn't fair and he deserved _more_ than this.

"Andromeda, let me read the letter," he all but growled at her, causing her to cock on eyebrow up at him.

"This letter?" she asked innocently – too innocently – and held up the crumpled ball of parchment. "You want this letter? Huh."

Ted watched suspiciously as Andromeda tossed the parchment back and forth between her hands, studied it intently, said, "Well, Ted, I just don't think I can let you have it," and then she promptly shoved it into her mouth.

"God damn it, woman –" Ted wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or shake her, so he settled for raking his hands frustratingly through his hair to keep from strangling her, if it came down to it. She looked so _smug_ now, too; it was infuriating.

"Don't call me _woman_," she said thickly through the parchment.

"Fine," Ted said, the agitation gnawing at him and competing fiercely with his amusement. "So I'll take _Andy_, _stupid_, and _woman_ off my list of endearments for you. Or should I just scrap that list altogether, seeing as how you don't want dear old Mum to write you out of the inheritance?"

"Hey." Andromeda spit the soggy and useless letter out of her mouth so it landed with a soft _splat_ against the stone of the courtyard. She looked back at Ted and narrowed her eyes. "Don't be an arse about this, all right, I get enough of that from my dear sisters."

"Yeah, you sure do," Ted agreed, but Andromeda could tell he was angry with her now, "but you just keep going back for more, don't you?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means!"

"No, can't say that I do, so why don't you enlighten me?"

Ted wanted to hit something – the wall, perhaps, anything that would make him bleed and distract him from the impatience that was coursing through his veins. This – all of it, whatever it was – it had been teasing his temper for ages but he'd kept it down, kept it quiet and shut away, because he didn't want to ruin this. But then, it wasn't his fault; after all, he didn't give a _damn_ that Andromeda was a pureblood and he wasn't. That was her family's prejudice, and he was tired of it coming between them like this.

"This!" Ted finally blurted out, gesturing to himself and then to Andromeda and back and forth and back and forth again. "Me and you. It's like you're ashamed of me or something, and half the time you're hanging 'round with Malfoy and Nott and Selwyn, and I _don't_ think you know how angry that makes me –"

"If this is some stupid jealous fit, Ted, then I don't want to hear it," Andromeda informed him hotly. They'd been over this time and time again: If she was going to hang around with Ted alone, then she'd better make damn sure that she was seen with the sort of wizards that wouldn't send her family into a conniption fit, too. It was the only balance Andromeda could think of if she didn't want to lose her family, and even now it wasn't panning out so well. Narcissa's attitude and Bellatrix's letter had been evidence enough of that.

"It's not. I'm not jealous," Ted argued derisively, although he knew it wasn't true. He was _insanely_ jealous. He hated that she could bear to be seen with those blood-purity maniacs, who spat out insults and hexes just because they could, who worshipped some crazed madman because he was their hope for a clean, Muggle-free future or some such rubbish. He hated that the likes of Nott and Selwyn could actually drape an arm around her shoulders in front of everyone, and they didn't even _care_ – not really, not like he did; they just did it because Andromeda was pretty, she was a _trophy_, and Ted had heard the sort of thing they said about her and it made his blood boil and his hand twitch for his wand.

Andromeda snorted at Ted's obvious lie. "Yeah, well, you could've fooled me."

"Funny," Ted said, knowing that he was going to regret whatever came out of his mouth next, but he couldn't stop it, "because you must've been fooling me for the past couple of months, too."

Silence. It was the loudest silence either of them had ever endured.

Andromeda blinked up at him, unable to believe that he could really think she didn't take their relationship seriously, that it was some kind of joke to her. He couldn't possibly think so little of her, could he? All because she wouldn't let him read a stupid sodding letter that said stupid terrible things about him. All because he returned the hatred her family bestowed upon anyone less than pureblood. All because – because – oh, who even knew what else?

"Well," she said, half-angry, half-controlled panic, "well, if that's what you think, then – that I was just fooling you – then maybe I'll just – I'll just go."

"Wait, 'Dromeda –" Ted could have kicked himself._ This is what you get, Tonks_, said a furious voice in his head, _this is what you get for keeping it all bottled up inside like this. You stupid tosser_.

But Andromeda was already walking away, turning briefly only to say, "Might want to scrap that list of endearments, after all. Just keep it at _Black_, yeah?" She offered him a weak smile that she didn't mean, and she didn't know why she even bothered. "Surely that won't fool you."

And Ted watched her walk away, disappearing around a corner in a swish of black robes and chestnut curls. He felt an odd deflation of his heart, because all he'd meant to do was tease her, to flirt with her, maybe convince her to sneak back up to a deserted corridor like they had last night. And instead he got this. _This._

And now, despite all his old efforts to the contrary, he really had messed up this time.


	2. The Reminiscence

**2. The Reminiscence**

_I miss you – more than I let on  
I kissed you – far too long  
I'll let go as soon as you do  
See, I know we're not through…  
– Ed Sheeran –_

* * *

Their relationship hadn't had the most sweepingly romantic start. They had known each other only in passing, sharing classes and prefect meetings but never words, and sometimes Ted would stare – plenty of blokes did – and Andromeda's friends would roll their eyes in disgust. Andromeda would do nothing but spare Ted a fleeting glance, so he'd catch her eye and sometimes he'd wink cheekily at her. But that was as far as it ever went.

Until, that is, the first weekend of their seventh year, when they'd been assigned to a Friday night patrol together.

They were amicable enough at first, but after half an hour Ted decided that "amicable" wasn't very much fun. He rather liked Andromeda Black – maybe he even fancied her a little bit – and he noticed that she was very proper, the way any high society pureblood witch was expected to be, but there was something else underneath all that that Ted felt like uncovering. There was something reckless beneath that cool façade, something wild and daredevil and fuck-it-all, and Ted thought he might be able to get through to that part of Andromeda Black, as long as he was willing to ruffle her feathers a bit.

And, oh, was he willing…

So, when there was a lull in their stunted but polite conversation, Ted decided to take a jab at her without any provocation, and he said, "You're a little stuck-up, aren't you?"

Andromeda's jaw dropped and she turned her head to look at him, but she had never been one to be at a loss for words, so she recovered quickly and retorted coolly, "And you're a bit of a presumptuous cad."

"Ooh." Ted placed a sarcastic hand to his heart. "That stings, Black, really does."

"Have you got a problem with me, Tonks?" Andromeda asked, wondering why on earth this usually nice boy she didn't really know had suddenly decided to pick on her. Perhaps he was trying to flirt with her, she thought. She gave him a discreet once-over and decided that she wouldn't mind at all if flirting was his intention. She could only imagine what Bella and Cissy would say if she confided this sort of thing to them, but it wasn't like they were _there_, so what harm could it really do?

"Me, a problem? With you?" Ted acted like the very notion was unthinkable. "Of course not, your Majesty." He paused to bow deeply, and Andromeda rolled her eyes. "Your company, on the other hand…"

"What about my company?" Andromeda wanted to know, although she already had an idea. She knew who her friends were, after all.

"Right bunch of superiority-complexed wankers," Ted said matter-of-factly.

_Too right they are_, Andromeda thought and tried not to smile. It was difficult, though, because she'd always wanted to have someone with whom she could laugh at her friends. Her sisters always gave her that disapproving look, and it made her mother furious, and she knew she had plenty in common with them – from upbringing to opinions to mannerisms – but sometimes they were all just so posh and ridiculous, she was hard-pressed to keep a straight face.

But it was an acquired talent, so Andromeda kept her smile to herself and said, "If you're looking for a duel, you might as well share that opinion with them yourself."

"Oh, gladly," Ted agreed, then looked at her with an expression of faux-curiosity. "But you don't want to deliver my death wish, then?"

"I really couldn't care less," Andromeda said airily, almost haughtily as she attempted to hide her amusement.

Ted, however, wasn't trying to attempt any such thing, and his grin just about split his face in two. "Does that mean you like me?"

"No," Andromeda said, knowing it wasn't quite true. She gave him another once-over. Definitely not true.

"Ouch." Ted winced dramatically. "I was sort of hoping you did. I rather like staring at you."

"Hmmm." Andromeda pulled open a broom closet to check its contents, found no one from whom to dock points and send to bed, and pretended to be completely disinterested in what Ted was saying. "I've noticed."

They were quiet again, Ted smiling and Andromeda trying not to, both thinking about the other, and Ted decided he wasn't ruffling her feathers enough and, well, he might as well take the plunge… He could always pretend he was joking if it didn't work out…

"So," he said, the picture of nonchalance, "care for a snog, then?"

Andromeda's head snapped around again, a little more jerkily this time, unsure of whether or not she had heard him correctly. She rather hoped she _had_ heard him correctly – _oh, bugger, if my sisters could see me now_ – but still… "Excuse me?"

"I was only wondering," Ted said, shrugging like it wasn't a big deal. "Like I said, I like staring at you, and you've seemed tense lately. Thought a good, thorough snogging might help you out."

"How noble of you." Andromeda tried to roll her eyes, but she was a little busy controlling her suddenly erratic heartbeat.

Ted flashed her a roguish grin. "I'm quite the gentleman."

Andromeda snorted and they walked on in silence a little longer. Ted was about to label it a lost cause and forget about it when Andromeda spoke again.

"We're on rounds," she said, a note of uncertainty in her voice that made Ted latch onto his last shred of hope a little more tightly.

"Yes," he agreed, "but I've always had a thing for debauchery."

"You think I'm stuck-up," Andromeda reminded him, and her gaze dropped to his lips. Her mother would kill her, she thought, but Ted Tonks's mouth might just be worth it.

"Yes," Ted said again, and he allowed his eyes to take a slow journey down her body, "but rightfully so."

"You don't even know me!" Andromeda said, shoving him when she noticed the way he was looking at her. It was unnerving, and she was in enough trouble as it was because she just couldn't stop staring at his mouth.

"What better way to get to know someone?" Ted said, laughing as he regained the pace he'd lost when she'd pushed him.

She crossed her arms and stuck her nose in the air, trying for haughty again even though she didn't think she was pulling it off so well this time. "Who says I want to get to know you?"

"I do," Ted challenged, "judging by the way you keep _looking at my mouth_."

Andromeda bristled at having been caught. Damn it, she was supposed to be more cool and detached than that; her social tact was sorely lacking.

"You're rather arrogant for a Hufflepuff, aren't you?" she noted in an attempt to regain her composure.

"And you're rather skittish for a Slytherin," Ted countered with another grin because he was just so in, he could tell, "so I suppose we're both some kind of black sheep."

Andromeda looked at him again, controlling her blush and raising an eyebrow. "So that's why you want to snog me, then?"

Ted laughed and shook his head. "No, I want to snog you because you're hot."

"Oh." Andromeda's other eyebrow went up and she gave him a third and final once-over. Ted noticed this time and shoved his hands in his pockets, smiling serenely as he waited for her verdict. She tapped a finger against her lips and took him in – tall (she wouldn't be surprised to find out that he had an entire foot on her), a little sloppy (he needed a haircut, his tie was undone, his shirttails out), nice smile (a bit smug, maybe, but she supposed he'd earned that)…

_You're completely off it, Black_, a warning voice said somewhere in the depths of her brain, but Andromeda ignored it.

"All right," she said, and she tugged at the ends of Ted's undone tie, "show me what you've got, Tonks."

Ted's eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up – he'd anticipated this, sure, but it was something else to see that challenging sparkle in her dark eyes, that cheeky half-grin on those lips he was _this close_ to having on his own, and damn, he was happy that he'd taken that plunge. So his hands moved from his pockets to her hips, and he walked her back into the wall, both of them grinning and keeping their eyes locked on the other's mouths, and…

That's how it started – pressed against the cold stone wall of that dimly lit corridor, the torchlight flickering, casting heavily contrasted light and shadow over their skin, fingertips tracing over that same path, teeth sharp and breathing heavy. Ted's lips were chapped and Andromeda's were impossibly soft, he tasted like butterbeer and she tasted like spearmint.

_I must be crazy_, Andromeda thought while Ted trailed his Muggle-born lips down her pureblood throat. _Stark raving mad, absolutely, one hundred percent certifiable. _She bit her lip while he bit her neck, and she pushed her hands through his thick mop of hair. _My mother is going to kill me… _

Their meetings escalated from there – quickly, hotly. At first it was slow and a little shaky, but soon it was fast and greedy and neither of them had really expected that, but they indulged, anyway. Ted would push her more firmly into the wall, and Andromeda would hitch a leg over his hip, and his hand would run up her thigh and back down to grip just behind her knee, and his body would press into hers and hers would press right back, and their soft and ragged moans would crash together and they would hold on tighter, and they would kiss harder, deeper, longer.

Andromeda had the pattern of the stone wall imprinted into her back, Ted's fingerprints embedded into her hip. His lips were a constant shadow on hers, and she'd become an expert in Concealing Charms to cover up the visible shadows he left on her neck. They would casually bump into each other in the corridors, linger at the same bookshelf in the library, and every time was the same – a quick exchange of whispered words, a subtle touch, a twitch of the lips.

"Better quit flirting with me, Black," Ted would advise with a wink. "Don't want your mates to catch on, do you?"

Andromeda would roll her eyes because Ted was being ridiculous. They wouldn't find out. There was no way. But, of course, they had.

"What were you doing talking to Tonks?" one of them would ask.

"You know you're about to get yourself blasted off your family tree," another would joke, half-serious.

"Don't encourage him," another would scold.

But Andromeda would shrug it off in public and argue with her younger sister in private. Narcissa wasn't fooled by Andromeda's excuses, and she continued to urge her to end whatever she was doing with "that Mudblood," lest Bellatrix or their mother find out about this "uncouth liaison." Andromeda would scoff and try to wave Narcissa's concerns away, all the while feeling exceedingly guilty for disappointing her family and for putting Ted through the drama as well.

"I don't care," he'd tell her, and he always seemed so honest, so earnest and sincere and completely untroubled. But he _had_ cared, more and more every day, and so had Andromeda – and that's why she wouldn't let him read that letter, that's why she kept her Slytherin company, that's why she wouldn't kiss him in front of anyone, that's why they had never been able to take it farther or be more than what they had been.

_Had been…_ The past tense irked them both after the incident in the courtyard that late-October evening. It had been two weeks. They hadn't bumped into each other in the corridors or lingered at the same bookshelf in the library. They hadn't met each other's eye for more than a fleeting second. Andromeda hadn't smiled and Ted hadn't winked and there was suddenly much less laughter.

Ted's hands twitched whenever he saw her with Nott or Selwyn or whoever else happened to be vying for her attention. But he didn't do anything because he didn't really have the right to.

Andromeda's eyes stung with unshed tears whenever she caught him looking and he looked away first. But she didn't cry because Andromeda Black just didn't do that, she was too strong and proud and noble for that, and she couldn't break now.

They both sat in the library, at separate tables too close to each other. They both tugged at their hair and bit at their lips and kicked at the floor and stared blankly at the pages of a book and let their quills drip ink blots over essays they hadn't started. Their minds wandered to dimly lit corridors and empty classrooms and each other, to stone walls and spearmint and chapped lips, to Muggle-born hands touching pureblood skin.

Muggle-born hands touching pureblood skin… Ted sighed heavily and Andromeda pushed an agitated hand through her hair. Maybe that was the problem. Of course that was the problem.

_Toujours Pur, _Andromeda thought darkly, bitterly, the Black family crest flashing across her mind's eye. If only her mother could see her now…

Ted watched her gather her books and leave the library. His throat burned and his chest was hollow, and he thought Andromeda's eyes looked rather red, too.


	3. The Talk

**3. The Talk**

_Well, now there's him – and now there's me  
The secrets you give, and the secrets you keep  
And nevertheless, it's never you let  
The more that I give, and the less that I get  
Don't tell me to fight – to fight for you  
After this long, I shouldn't have to…  
– Marianas Trench –_

* * *

"What's up with you, Ted?" Brad Fletchley asked for the umpteenth time during breakfast one Thursday morning. "You've been a right bore the past couple of weeks."

"Don't be such a prat, Brad," Dana Finch said, elbowing her boyfriend in the ribs before turning a concerned face onto Ted. "Seriously, though, love, what's the matter? You're miserable, I can tell."

Brad snorted. "Everyone can tell."

Dana glared at him but Ted just kept his eyes on the table and shrugged. "I dunno," he told them both. "I'm fine."

"You're not, though," Dana said. She reached over to grasp Ted's hand in hers. "Whatever it is, you can tell us."

Ted looked up from the table and his eyes immediately found Andromeda across the room. He looked away, but he wasn't quick enough that time; Dana followed his short-lived gaze and answered her own question.

"Ooh." She rubbed her lips together, trying not to smile. "I see."

"See?" Brad echoed, confused. He looked around the room and couldn't figure it out himself, so he turned to Dana and blinked excessively. "What do you see? What are you talking about?"

Dana ignored him and pursed her lips, waiting for Ted to confirm or deny. Finally he sighed and nodded, looking more miserable than Dana had ever seen him.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said just as Dana was opening her mouth to question him further. "It's – I messed it up."

"Messed _what _up?" Brad asked, only to be ignored again.

"So there was something _to _mess up, then?" Dana said, almost triumphantly as it all started falling into place. She'd wondered about that extra spring in Ted's step the past couple of months, and the sudden disappearance of that spring not too long ago. Everyone knew he had some kind of thing for Andromeda Black, too, but most red-blooded males did so Dana hadn't thought too much of it.

But now… Well, now was a different story.

"I don't want to talk about it," Ted said again, his eyes flitting back to Andromeda. She was looking back at him and they both turned away. "I really, really don't want to talk about it."

Dana glanced over her shoulder to see Andromeda Black's eyes right back where they'd been a second ago – on Ted. It was odd, maybe it was even a little bit wrong, but ultimately Dana thought that there were enough bad things that didn't make any sense, so it was nice to have something good that didn't make sense, too. It balanced things out, and it made Ted happy, so it couldn't really be that bad, could it?

"Ted," Dana said. He was looking at Andromeda again. Normally Dana would just let it go, but this was important and she had to get it out so she could turn her attention to her own sulking boyfriend. She snapped her fingers in front of Ted's face. "Ted. Darling. Back to planet Earth for a moment, please."

"I said I don't want to talk about it, Dana –"

"That's fine, you don't have to say a word," Dana said. "I'll talk, you listen. Understand?"

Ted mumbled something under his breath and waved a hand, inviting her to continue.

"Good. Now." Dana cleared her throat and smoothed out her skirt, taking her time so she could choose her words correctly. "I don't know what's happening, exactly, but –"

"I don't know what's happening _at all_ –"

"Shut up, Brad." Dana jabbed him in the ribs and went back to Ted. "Look, all I want to say is that whatever the problem is, just, you know, shut up and work it out. It seems like a disaster, anyway, and if it makes you feel this bad living without it, well, you might as well get caught in the eye of the storm, eh?"

Ted looked at her, over at Andromeda, and back at Dana, and he said, "That was an incredibly lame thing to say."

Dana smiled, looking rather pleased with herself. "Yes, well, I think you agree with me, anyway."

"Yeah, sure, Dana." Ted tugged at the ends of his hair, pushed it away from his face, and let it fall back into his eyes when he dropped his hand into his lap. He was trying to play it off, but he knew that no matter how lame her word choice might have been, Dana was right. He felt like shit and he wanted Andromeda back, even if he'd never really had her before. Things were so much worse this way. He was tired of things being worse.

Prejudice, fine. Insults, cool. Hexes, he could take that. He had to take it all, anyway, so he might as well deal with it knowing he'd be meeting Andromeda in an empty classroom later. She'd laugh at him again and touch his hand under the table, they could act like sort-of friends in front of other people – hell, they would be able to look at each other from somewhere that wasn't across a room, and even that would be enough to shake this helpless feeling.

Fuck it, he just wanted her back.

So Ted thought about that, and Dana shook her head, and Brad tried to figure out what the bloody hell was going on.

"I don't get it," Brad finally grumbled, annoyed at being left out of the loop.

"I know." Dana smiled and kissed his cheek.

And Ted's eyes just found their way back to Andromeda, and he didn't say anything at all.

* * *

"Adrian," Andromeda said for what felt like the hundredth time, her voice heavy with feigned patience, "if I could just get you to, you know, _not_ do that… Thanks."

"Sheesh." Adrian Nott dropped his arm from around her shoulders, making sure to skim his fingers along her lower back as he did so. "What's your damage?"

Andromeda scowled down at the book she was pretending to read. "I don't have any damage," she said to page forty-six. "I'm just busy."

"What is this, anyway?" Nott pulled the book from Andromeda's loose grip and she raised her eyes towards the wide, overcast November sky above, praying for some divine guidance, but none came. Nott was flipping through the pages. "I don't know why you bother with this sort of thing, anyway."

"_What_ sort of thing?" Andromeda snapped, unable to control her temper and not caring about the way her friends looked at her. She went to snatch the book back, but Nott held it out of her reach. "Reading's not exactly a difficult thing to grasp, you know, I'm sure you could manage it if you really screwed up your concentration and tried –"

"I don't think that's what he meant," Lucius Malfoy noted dryly. He was looking around the courtyard, obviously bored and better than everyone else.

Andromeda knew perfectly well what Nott had meant, what all purebloods of his social status meant – entitled young witches such as herself needn't bother themselves with trivial things like learning. No, no, the Black daughters were destined for a much better fate than that: Wife to a rich wizard, mother to a new generation of purebloods.

But Andromeda would much prefer it if they all just shoved it up their arses.

It didn't help her mood, either, ever since she'd noticed that Ted was outside right then, too. He was across the courtyard with his friends, leaning against a wall, arms crossed, his mouth turned down into a slight frown that reached the eyes that were trained on her. Andromeda looked away – god, when would they stop playing this game? – and focused her attention back on Nott. She flicked her wand and her book hit him in the face before gliding back into her waiting hand. She smirked as Nott swore and rubbed his nose, and her eyes found Ted's again; this time he was smiling.

She was jarred from thoughts of Ted Tonks's smile, however, when she realized that Lucius had been talking through her reverie and Nott's sore nose. She snapped back just in time to hear him say that "Narcissa's rather pretty," and although she wasn't quite sure how he'd gotten to that point, she scowled at him.

"She's fourteen, Lucius," she said, annoyed that anyone would spare the youngest Black daughter a second glance when she was much too young to be considered marriageable. Andromeda didn't fancy having to hex a bunch of leering blokes; after all, no matter how much Cissy got on her nerves, she was still Andromeda's little sister, and she was still too young for anyone to pay that kind of attention to.

"A mere two years," Lucius said with a disconcerted shrug. "Besides, you know our parents…"

"Yes, I suppose I do," Andromeda said, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice as she thought about how welcome Lucius Malfoy would be in the Black home. She flipped a page too violently and it ripped. Merlin, her mother would likely die from the sheer joy of it all – Lucius Malfoy, so rich and so pure and so high-class… It made Andromeda choke on her own spit.

And suddenly Andromeda couldn't stand to be around these people anymore. She snapped her book shut and slid from her seat on the wall and muttered something about how she'd be right back, and then she was off, walking alone against the chill November wind, her thoughts turning back to her mother…

Druella Black had been rather insufferable lately – not that she wasn't always, Andromeda thought, but she'd been bombarded by letters lately. They all said the same thing, too: She was seventeen now and it was about time for her to get serious about meeting a nice pureblood wizard. Adrian Nott was a proper match, and there was Grant Bulstrode, too, or even Rabastan Lestrange – brother to Bellatrix's husband – any of them would do.

And if Andromeda didn't want to take the initiative (which, naturally, she didn't), that was fine because Druella planned to have a whole batch of potential suitors at their annual Christmas party in a few weeks. Andromeda sighed and stared out at the freezing lake, thinking about how she'd never really enjoyed those stuffy old parties, but this year she was absolutely dreading it.

She was just thankful that Bella hadn't joined in any more of the incessant writing, as she'd been too busy doing whatever it was she'd been doing since leaving Hogwarts. Since Andromeda hadn't bothered responding to Bellatrix's initial correspondence, she was sure she'd hear it from her older sister when they saw each other at Christmas, but at least Andromeda could revel in this short stretch of peace.

Really, though, "peace" wasn't the best word for it, Andromeda thought glumly as she made her way back to the courtyard and the people she'd be forced to spend the rest of her life with. "Misery," perhaps, would do, or "total and complete black hole of unforgiving pain" might work even better.

But she didn't have much longer to dwell on her self-pity or what on earth she was going to do about it. As soon as Andromeda turned the corner she'd been hanging around just a few minutes ago, it was to find a large crowd assembled, flashes of light, shouts and whistles and jeers and – oh bloody hell, she knew what she was about to find…

Sure enough, as soon as Andromeda got close enough for a good look, there was Ted Tonks and Adrian Nott, dueling fiercely and every so often throwing a regular right- or left-hook, swearing at each other in between jinxes, their own friends hanging uselessly at the wayside, unsure of what to do.

"Mudblood –"

"Heard that one before, Nott, try again –"

That was Ted's nose breaking.

Nott would have a wicked black eye.

"_Furnunculus!"_

"_Protego!" _

This was ridiculous… Andromeda pulled her wand at the same time as Brad Fletchley and Lucius Malfoy, none of them realizing what anyone else was doing, and their spells collided midair, right between Ted and Nott, and they exploded – all gold and red and green, and the two boys were blasted back away from each other, both tripping over their own feet and landing with resounding crashes onto the stone. The crowd was cheering at such an excellent conclusion to a brilliant fight, but they silenced abruptly and immediately when Andromeda turned her furious gaze on them.

"All right, show's over!" she shouted, waving them all away, sure to keep her wand in their sight to scare them off. "I mean it – get back to your dorms, the library, wherever, but there's nothing left to see here and unless you want to end up like these two idiots, I suggest you move along!"

Not eager to enrage a Black, the crowd heeded Andromeda's threat and dispersed, scattering and hurrying away until the only ones who remained were Andromeda, Ted, Brad, Dana, Nott, and Lucius. Andromeda pointed her wand at each of them in turn.

"Finch, Fletchley, back to your common room," she said. She waited for them to exchange looks with Ted before they hastened to obey her order, and then she turned back to the others. "Adrian, twenty points from Slytherin and a week's detention –"

"_What?"_ Nott said, furious, his eye blossoming black-and-blue. "Are you kidding me? This Mudblood's the one who started it –"

"I don't care!" Andromeda said. Her fingers flexed around the handle of her wand. "One more word, Adrian, and it'll be fifty points and two weeks. You and Lucius go back to Slytherin common room. _Now_."

Nott glared at her as he left, knocking into her shoulder and muttering "Mudblood whore" under his breath. Andromeda looked over her shoulder and shouted "Fifty points and two weeks, then, Adrian!"

He didn't bother responding, and he and Lucius disappeared around the corner and out of sight. Ted and Andromeda were alone for the first time in weeks, and suddenly it was much more difficult to look each other in the eye. Andromeda looked at a spot just above Ted's left shoulder, and he stared resolutely at her right elbow.

"So what'd he say to you?" Ted finally asked, breaking the silence between them. "Nott. When he walked past. He must've said something for you to up the ante on him like that."

"It's not important," Andromeda said. She shoved her wand into her pocket, her fellow Slytherin's words ringing in her head. Well, she shouldn't have expected anything less, and she was almost certain that her mother would hear about this, and of course she'd blame the whole thing on her wayward daughter. "Twenty points from Hufflepuff, a week's detention, and I'd also like to know what the hell you were trying to do."

Ted's eyes snapped up to her face then. She was looking at him, too. He opened his mouth, shut it again, opened it, and, regaining his composure, he said, "Well, I was _going_ to kill him."

Andromeda crossed her arms. This was something she could deal with, this was normal, this was what she and Ted did – they bickered about their stupid, useless relationship, and she was going to hang onto that, so she said, "Another jealous fit?"

"You got it." Ted grinned at her, and it felt good, because this was how it was supposed to be. "Felt like knocking your boyfriend's teeth out. That's about all there is to it."

"For one thing," Andromeda said, her precarious temper flaring at Ted's implications, "I can do whatever I want. You made it rather clear that you didn't want us to take it any further, so really –"

"Hey, don't put that on me," Ted was quick to counter, his own anger bristling to match hers. "Don't you dare. I damn near _worshipped_ you, Andromeda," he went on, taking a step towards her, "and you know it."

"Is that so?" Andromeda matched his step. "That's funny, Ted, because all I seem to remember is you putting me through hell the past couple of weeks because of your bollocks insecurities."

Ted forced a laugh. "Oh, that's rich, love," he said, wondering how they'd gone from almost-back-to-normal right back to _this_. "Really, it is, because you're the one who can't bear to be seen with me in public –"

"Oh, shut up!" Andromeda took another step forward and shoved him, hard, managing little more than causing him to take a step back in his surprise. "I told you, Ted, I told you right from the beginning –"

"You didn't tell me anything!" Ted argued.

"Well, maybe that's because you just wanted to snog me in a corridor and in that case, I didn't think there was anything to tell!"

"All right, so I'll give you a pass on the first time, Andromeda, but there were plenty of other times after that –"

"And I told you then, I did, you knew what you were getting into –"

"Maybe it was too late!"

"Well, that's not my fault!"

"Well, I – you – well –" Ted spluttered, tripping over words he didn't have. He pushed a hand through his hair and it fell right back over his eyes. He was standing so close to Andromeda now that she actually had to tilt her chin to get a good look at him, and it was the exact same way she'd been looking at him the first time and – and –

"Well, fuck it all, then," Ted muttered, really not caring this time, and he caught her face between his hands and kissed her.

He half-expected her to shove him away, to shout at him some more or maybe curse him or something, but she didn't. To the contrary, she stood on her toes and flung her arms around his neck and she was dragging him down closer until his knees bent and his arms wrapped around her waist and her body was flush against his.

Andromeda's mouth opened under his and she tasted just like she always did – like spearmint, and she was soft, and _this_ was that storm he was supposed to be caught up in and she was perfect. Ted's tongue slid over hers and he tasted like butterbeer and his lips were still chapped and his tie was still undone and he was still so much taller than she was and it didn't bother her at all anymore.

It was cold out there in the courtyard, but not then, not really, not when he was putting his Muggle-born hands all over her pureblood skin and she was heating up under his touch.

"I'm sorry," Ted said when they broke apart to breathe, his apology hoarse and ragged as he littered her neck with kisses. "I'm so sorry, for everything, for what I said to you, for starting that fight with Nott, for getting jealous, I won't do it again, I swear –"

"I still don't know why you started that fight in the first place," Andromeda said, her breath hissing in and out between her teeth when Ted bit the slope of her neck.

"Because he's a stupid Slytherin twat, that's why." Ted slid his hands around her waist, tracing the curve there. "God, I was so tired of seeing his hands all over you like that, I don't want anyone else touching you, not like this."

Andromeda tugged at his hair to bring his mouth back to hers. "So much for not getting jealous," she murmured, and he grinned against her lips.

"It's a work in progress," he promised, and then it was all spearmint and butterbeer and nothing else.

_Toujours Pur__… _The Black family crest didn't so much flash across Andromeda's mind's eye then, but rather it twinkled and buzzed and when Ted's Muggle-born hands twined through her pureblood hair, it popped and sizzled and then it was gone entirely.

She wondered vaguely what in high hell her mother was going to say, but then she kissed those Muggle-born lips harder, and she supposed that Ted Tonks's mouth was worth the disinheritance.


	4. The Crossing

**4. The Crossing**

_Pride can stand a thousand trials  
The strong will never fall  
But watching stars without you, my soul cried…  
Touch me deep, pure and true  
Give to me forever  
'Cuz I'm kissing you…  
– Des'ree – _

* * *

"Beesly," Andromeda gasped as the house-elf tightened her corset so the material cut into her skin. "Beesly, darling, I can't breathe."

"Miss must hold it!" the elf squeaked, her face screwed up in concentration as she deftly tied the corset into place with her long, nimble fingers. "Miss Andromeda's mother says to _hold it in_, and Beesly will be in very much trouble if Beesly does not get Miss Andromeda to do as her mother says!"

Andromeda would have groaned if she could muster the strength to do so. "This is absurd," she said, her hands running over the material that was stretched taut across her stomach. "This blasted thing is two sizes too small as it is."

"Miss must look her best!" Beesly said as she dragged a long emerald gown from the wardrobe. "Mistress Black insists. She tells Beesly, she does, that tonight is _very important_ for Miss Andromeda, and that Miss Andromeda must look just right."

"Yes, I should look lovely once I've fainted," Andromeda grumbled as she stepped into the dress and shimmied it up; no small feat, as it was nearly as tight as the corset.

While Beesly busied herself at Andromeda's feet, tying the straps of her shoes, there was a loud knock on the door. _Thump thump thump._ Before Andromeda could so much as open her mouth to answer, the door swung open to reveal Bellatrix, dressed in long black satin and carrying a polished wooden box.

"Beesly, Mother wants the house-elves in the kitchen," she said in way of greeting. "I'll finish up with Andromeda. Go on."

Beesly bowed and scampered out obediently, leaving the Black sisters alone. Bellatrix handed the box to the other and said, "Here, it's your mask. Mother wanted me to bring it to you."

"Brilliant." Andromeda released an irritated breath and set the box on her vanity. Only Druella Black could dream up something as cliché as a Christmas Eve masquerade. The whole thing was about as ridiculous as her corset. "I can't believe I've actually got to do this."

"Don't complain," Bellatrix said. She waved her wand over Andromeda's hair so that the long chestnut locks began to curl and twist themselves into an elaborate up-do. "This whole thing is for your benefit. You should be grateful."

Andromeda rolled her eyes. "Yes, I will be forever grateful for the chance to have so many pureblood hands pawing at me –"

"Better that than whatever you get up to at school," Bellatrix snapped, causing Andromeda's blood to freeze. "If what Cissy told me was true, which I sincerely hope isn't the case. Not that I would know, of course, since you never answered my letter _two months ago_."

"I've got better things to do than entertain your and Cissy's trivial gossip, thanks," Andromeda said coolly, trying to ignore the erratic pounding of her heart. She'd known all along that she'd have to endure Bellatrix's inquisition, but there was no way she would ever be prepared for it.

Bellatrix scowled. "Betraying your familial duty so you can muck about with some Mudblood is a bit more consequential than _trivial gossip_."

Andromeda turned to face her sister, arms crossed, breathing stunted thanks to nerves and the corset. "Are you accusing me of something, Bella?"

"Are you guilty of something?"

"What exactly constitutes _guilty_?"

"I think you know," Bellatrix said, her voice low and somewhat menacing. "You can have your fun with whoever you like; go on and taint yourself, but you keep it quiet, do you hear me? If anyone who's decent enough to show up tonight finds out that you've turned yourself into some kind of Mudblood whore –"

"A _what_?" Andromeda bristled with indignation, her arms falling down to her sides and her hands clenching into fists. "What did you just call me?"

Something flashed behind Bellatrix's eyes, and Andromeda thought it was triumph at having backed her into this corner. Andromeda was failing miserably in her attempts to keep her cool, to keep Ted a secret from her family. She'd been failing for months; if only she could have practiced a bit more discretion, perhaps Narcissa would never have voiced her concerns to Bellatrix, and Andromeda could have avoided this conversation altogether.

But, of course, it was too little, too late.

"Let me guess," Bellatrix said, tapping her finger mockingly against her chin, trying to goad her sister into admitting the big ugly truth, "you don't like hearing your boyfriend being called a Mudblood, do you? So tell me, my dear, is it because you're rightfully ashamed of what you're doing to your family?"

Andromeda gritted her teeth but didn't say anything. What could she say, really? She knew precisely what she was doing to her family, to herself; she'd known all along but she'd done it, anyway. She had no excuse, and no justification that Bellatrix or any other Black would understand. It was a simple matter of parentage to them, and it had become so much more than that to Andromeda, and it was a kind of more that her family wouldn't deign to entertain, much less allow to continue.

Bellatrix gathered enough information from Andromeda's silence, and she shook her head, disgusted and indignant. How had her sister gone so far astray?

"Keep acting like this, Andromeda, go on," she invited, "and I'll go straight to Mother. I'm sure she'd be all too happy to have a word with Lucius and the boys; they'll keep an eye on you, make sure you don't run off to any broom cupboards with that filth."

"I'll be sure to stick with the hidden passageways, then," Andromeda said insolently before she could stop herself. Her arms crossed over her chest again and she refused to meet Bellatrix's eye.

"This is not a joke, and it's not the time for one!" Bellatrix hissed. She curled her fingers around the other girl's forearm, her nails biting into her skin. "Are you really willing to disgrace your family this way? For some fling with a Mudblood? If this is about romance, you're wasting your time; you've got your pick of plenty of pureblood wizards, all affluent and respectable and dying to get into your good graces!"

Andromeda snorted. "Right, I bet my _good graces_ are all they want to get into."

But Bellatrix had heard enough; this conversation wasn't going anywhere and she didn't want to lose her temper with her sister, no matter how incredibly stupid and revolting she was being. She released Andromeda's arm and made towards the door, shaking her head again.

"Just end it," she said, one hand on the doorknob. "End it, and we can forget the whole thing ever happened."

"Oh, come now, sister dear," Andromeda said, her voice dripping with dry, venomous sarcasm, "I thought you said this wasn't the time for jokes."

"Enough, Andromeda." Bellatrix held up a hand to silence her. "Enough. Just remember what I said. I'll see you downstairs."

And with a flurry of black satin and the slam of her bedroom door, Andromeda Black was left very much alone.

* * *

The music was loud, the decorations lavish, the food as rich as the people milling around the ballroom, dressed immaculately in gowns and dress robes and masks, talking and laughing and sipping sparkling champagne from goblin-crafted glass. Warm, enchanted snow fell from the high ceiling, dusting tables and shoulders. It was beautiful – it could have been perfect – but Andromeda sat and drummed her fingers against a table and thought about how absolutely _im_perfect it all really was.

Lucius Malfoy sat across from her, resplendent in black and silver, his gray eyes flicking around the room, and he said, "Your mother is staring at you."

"Yes, I'm sure," Andromeda said darkly into her third glass of champagne. "Let me know when she looks somewhere else; I want to turn this into firewhiskey and I don't think she'd approve."

Lucius shot her something of an exasperated look but before he could say anything to accompany it, there was a tap on Andromeda's shoulder. Expecting it to be one of her sisters, Andromeda attempted to take a deep breath, failed, and turned around.

Her eyes widened and her heart jumped into her throat. Standing in front of her was a tall young man, dressed modestly in black, his blue eyes bright against the darkness of his mask, a smile on the mouth Andromeda knew so very well. His hair was different – a rich brown that wasn't his, cropped shorter than she was used to seeing on him, but her eyes flicked to his hands as he held one out to her and oh, she knew those hands…

"Hello, Andromeda," he said, and he'd done something to his voice as well. "Mind if I steal you for a dance?"

Seeing as her heart was stuck in her throat, Andromeda could only bring herself to nod and slip her hand into his proffered one. He led her onto the floor and spun her in time to the music, and Andromeda managed to catch her mother's encouraging nod from across the room. _Oh, Merlin…_

As she was drawn back into her partner's arms, Andromeda glared up at him and hissed between her teeth, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Got tired of sitting and stewing." Ted's grip on her tightened and he pulled her closer against him, smiling indulgently all the while. "Now kiss me."

Andromeda dug her toes discreetly but warningly into his. "I don't want to be melodramatic, but _are you mad_?" she demanded in a low voice as they continued to move. "Do you want to get yourself killed?"

"Don't freak out. Everything's fine," Ted assured her, looking far too pleased with himself. "I'm a pureblood."

"Oh, yeah?" Andromeda would have raised an eyebrow if her mask wasn't preventing her from doing so.

Ted nodded once, still smug and self-assured, and his fingers flexed into hers reassuringly. "Yeah, I've got the whole thing planned, if need be: Nathaniel Crouch, Ministry representative Barty Crouch's third cousin, twice removed, but pureblood all the same."

Andromeda groaned. "You can't just make up an identity and show up at my parents' house!"

"Funny, because I think I just did." Ted's eyes swept around the cavernous room, the finely dressed people, and then settled back on Andromeda's face. "You know, for all the Galleons you've got, security on this place sure is lax."

"Someone's going to recognize you," Andromeda insisted.

Those blue eyes rolled and that mouth she knew so well turned up at the corners. "That's what I love about a masquerade, my dear," he teased. "I even changed my hair; don't tell me you didn't notice, you complain about it enough."

"Yes, I did notice," Andromeda said as she tugged at the uncharacteristically short tresses. "And, honestly, I like your hair much better when it's _your_ hair."

Ted smiled, pleased that he finally got her to admit that his hair wasn't so bad, after all. "Well, to answer your earlier question, I really don't fancy getting myself killed tonight, so this hair will have to do." He leaned down closer to whisper into her ear and added, "I'll change it back when we're alone."

A shiver shot up Andromeda's spine but she shook her head. "Oh, I don't think so, _Nathaniel_," she said. "You've got to get out of here before my mother comes swooping in and bombards you with questions about your bloodline. She's been watching me like a hawk all night and you're the first bloke I've danced with."

"Really?" Ted said, and if it were possible he looked even more smug than he had a moment ago.

Andromeda dug her fingers into his shoulder. "Yes, I have unwittingly aroused her suspicions, and it's your fault."

"_My_ fault?" Ted blinked down at her, confused now. "How's it my fault?"

"Everything is awful and I've had a rubbish evening," Andromeda was babbling before she could stop herself. "Between my completely mad mother and this damn corset and my crazy sisters, it's just a disaster, and then you come in, risking your neck just to see me a couple of weeks early, it's just – it's your fault, all right?"

Ted's consistent smile widened and he pulled her closer so he could feel every curve and she could feel every contour and God, he still wanted her closer. He'd been going mad the past week, pacing and restless and inconsolable; he hadn't been able to see her, or even write to her in the fear that the letter would be intercepted by another member of the Black family. It had been torture and by December twenty-fourth, he'd had enough. And now that he was here, he was determined to keep her right there with him.

"Andromeda…" Ted's whisper fluttered over her skin, echoing into her eardrum, his free hand sweeping the bare canvas of her back, heating and chilling her skin, her spine, all at once. "Kiss me."

"You really have a death wish, don't you?" Andromeda surmised, paranoid and thrilled and wanting very much to do exactly what he said. If only her stupid bloody mother would look somewhere else for ten seconds… "That's why you came here, isn't it?"

"No." Ted glanced around and decided he could hardly get away with kissing her there, so he settled for running his lips against her temple along with his next words. "I came here to make love to my girlfriend."

Andromeda stomped on his foot, not caring how conspicuous it was that time. "You _what_, excuse me?" she hissed back. "Are you drunk?"

"Uh-uh." Ted shook his head and leaned back a little, just enough to look at her. Her eyes were dark, smoldering, and he didn't care how many times she dug her foot into his, because she wanted this just as badly as he did. "So I can kiss you here and your mother can bombard me with all the questions she likes, or we can go somewhere else and not worry about it."

Part of her wanted to say no – at least, Andromeda knew that part of her should want to say no. But _no_ was really the furthest thing from her mind. They were surrounded by her family, by other pureblood families and eligible pureblood wizards she was supposed to be paying attention to, and all she could think about was dragging Ted Tonks up to her bedroom and letting him do whatever he wanted to her. And that didn't really feel like a _no_ to her. So instead of fighting with him, she nodded.

"Upstairs." Her breath was short as she tangled her fingers through his hair.

"Upstairs?" Ted repeated, smiling as his breath hitched and caught in his throat. "I like upstairs."

So they went upstairs – Andromeda first, ducking out of her mother's sight when Druella turned to say something to a friend, and Ted followed shortly thereafter.

Andromeda locked the door to her bedroom. The candles were running low, casting shadows and flickers of light over the walls, across their skin. Ted changed his hair back with a flick of his wand. They tugged their masks off and tossed them carelessly aside.

She kissed him, hard, and he kissed her back. It was sweet and hot and desperate and it really wasn't supposed to happen, but they'd crossed that line months ago. By December twenty-fourth, it was less wrong and more too late.

Ted struggled with the zipper on her dress and Andromeda fumbled with his tie, breaking the kiss only to breathe or swear or sigh. Ted toed off his shoes and Andromeda kicked off hers. Both of their hands tugged at the ties of her corset and Ted shrugged out of his dress robes. They pooled onto the floor, emerald silk and silver filigree and black cotton and white linen.

The bedsprings squeaked faintly as they fell onto the mattress, and the headboard shuddered against the wall as they moved. Blood hummed, skin flamed, hands groped and scratched, chests heaved and lungs tore with the effort it took to breathe, teeth bit, mouths sucked, tongues flicked over every inch of everything. Ted breathed her name and Andromeda moaned his.

They knew it was wrong.

But it was too late.

* * *

_A/N: Yes, this was all very Baz Luhrmann's _Romeo + Juliet_, wasn't it? *shrugs* If it works, it works… Next chapter will be the last!_


	5. The Discovery

**5. The Discovery**

_Is there a right way for how this goes?  
You've got your friends  
And you've got your foes  
They want a piece of something hot  
Forget your name like they forgot…__  
– Sleeping with Sirens –_

* * *

Andromeda ducked just in time to avoid the curse that obliterated the bookshelf behind her, showering her with dust and wood splinters and pages of annihilated books that had sat so pristinely upon the shelves ten seconds ago.

"What the bloody hell are you trying to do?" she shouted at her mother, but Druella was already aiming her wand for another go. Andromeda dove behind the couch, which exploded next, and rolled away behind a cabinet of prized Black heirlooms. Surely her mother wouldn't destroy such priceless possessions, no matter how bloodthirsty she was.

"Get back here!" Druella screeched along with another resounding _crash_.

"Fat chance of that!" Andromeda yelled back, staying put.

Another crash, a thump, an explosion, and Druella Black very nearly roared in frustration.

"You disgusting, insolent girl!" She was screaming like a banshee, dangerously close to an octave at which only dogs would be able to hear her. Something else exploded and Andromeda guessed that the drawing room would be in shambles by the time this was over. "How _dare_ you disgrace your family this way? After everything I've done for you, and you're mucking about with _filth_!"

Druella continued shouting – curses and hexes and incoherent noises – and Andromeda stayed where she was, cowering behind possession that no Black would dare tarnish in a fit of anger. She swore silently to herself as she listened to the racket her mother was making. Did she learn nothing, _ever_? Andromeda chastised herself. She'd been careless and reckless and completely mad to think she could get away with any of this.

She knew she should have stayed at the castle for the Easter holidays; all she'd wanted was to get away from the stress of exams, just for a few days, and now look at her – ducking behind furniture to avoid the violent wrath of Druella Black.

"I want to know who sent you that letter!" Andromeda shouted over yet another _bang!_, not caring about defending her position. It was too late for that; Druella knew too much for Andromeda to successfully deny it at this point.

"You are in absolutely no position to demand anything!" Druella retorted, enraged further by her daughter's sense of entitlement. "How dare you bring that garbage into _my_ house, tainting yourself under _my_ roof –"

"_Who told you?"_ Andromeda demanded. She stuck her head around the corner of the cabinet long enough for Druella to take aim again, but retreated so that the curse rebounded off the wall, leaving a large scorch mark in the paint. "Quit trying to kill me and _tell me_ who sent you that letter!"

"Never mind who sent it," Druella snarled. "You have much bigger worries than who warned me about the trouble you've gotten yourself into! Ungrateful child! I arrange an entire evening in your honor, to introduce you to _proper_ wizards, and how do you thank me? By ruining yourself with a Mudblood! Who's going to want you now? How on earth are we supposed to marry you off if everyone knows that you've turned yourself into a nasty little slag –"

"I haven't!" Andromeda protested hotly. She popped around the corner long enough to hit her mother with a Stinging Hex; the spell sizzled against Druella's ankle and made her scream again. "I don't want to be _married off_, besides!"

Druella waved her wand at a pile of fallen books, sending them around the cabinet to beat Andromeda repeatedly upside the head. "Do you think this is about what you _want_?" she yelled over Andromeda's loud swearing as the books attacked her. "This is about what you have to do, about your duty to your family! And instead you deliberately disobey me, running off with a Mudblood, letting him into our house, into your bedroom –"

She trailed off with another strangled screech, disgusted and unable to believe it. Druella had always known that her middle daughter was a tad off; Andromeda was proper and pretty and everything a Black should be, but she had a streak of disobedience that could not go unchecked. For the most part it had been allowed, and she had been punished accordingly when it was necessary, but never in a million years had Druella thought that her daughter would stoop so low. And in that vein, she'd been shocked by the letter she'd received that morning:

_Mrs. Black, it bemoans me to be the one to tell you this, but I can't keep quiet any longer. I feel a sense of responsibility to your family, as it will one day become my own through my eventual nuptials to Narcissa, and you have a right to know…_

The details had been gruesome, grisly, a proud pureblood mother's worst nightmare. Druella shut her eyes tight against the memory of those words, but they were burned into her mind, bright and blazing and reeking of betrayal.

Andromeda was a willing participant in some Mudblood's seduction, sneaking off to meet him while she was at Hogwarts, polluting her pure blood with his unworthy touch. And he had been in her home, dirtying the place up with that same unworthiness, coaxing Andromeda up to her bedroom, doing Merlin knows what, but surely it was enough to ruin Andromeda for any _real_ wizard.

The shouts had ceased, the explosions halted, and the books that had been beating Andromeda so mercilessly fell, harmless, to the floor. A ringing silence replaced the noise, and Druella's anger was ebbing away into a sort of cool, frightening calm. She felt empty, hollow, nothing, completely detached from a daughter she no longer considered to be her own.

This was too much. Andromeda had gone too far, and Druella washed her hands of the whole affair.

"I want you out of this house," Druella said, her voice hushed but cutting a jagged line through the silence all the same. "I want you to get your things, and I want you gone."

Andromeda swallowed the lump that was caught in her throat – it was all anger, anxiety, desperation and abandonment. This was it, the day she had always known was waiting for her; she'd crossed the line months ago and now she was reaping the consequences.

_Toujours Pur_ came first. She'd known all along, and she hadn't let that stop her. She'd accepted her fate, and now it was time to act on that acceptance. The time for fighting was over.

It was done.

So Andromeda forced the pain away, burying it deep so that she felt nothing but an overwhelming numbness that would shield her from the hopelessness that threatened to drown her, and she stood from her hiding place. She brushed the dust away and made her way through the debris to the drawing room door, and she didn't look back.

* * *

_Cra-ack!_

As soon as she Apparated in a reclusive alleyway, Andromeda tightened the cords on the hood of her sweatshirt and set off down the street, dragging her trunk behind her. The sky was dark, streetlamps splashing gold light across the pavement. An owl hooted once, twice, three times, and there was the faint sound of a car trundling its way down the next road. Andromeda quickened her step, her eyes scanning over the numbers of the houses she passed.

She hadn't meant to come here, not at first. She'd packed her trunk as quickly as possible and set off for the Leaky Cauldron, where she'd idled away the afternoon at a corner table, moodily cracking peanut shells, hidden away from anyone who might recognize her. As her ill luck would have it, the inn itself was full, so by eight o'clock she knew she'd have to make her leave.

She just didn't have anywhere to go.

Andromeda cursed under her breath for what felt like the thousandth time that day. She didn't want to go back to Hogwarts, not yet; she couldn't bear to face the Slytherin dormitory after the day she'd had. She had plenty of friends, but who would take her in now? Druella was sure to owl the lot of them with instructions to turn her away due to her betrayal, and she was willing to bet all of her remaining belongings that Aunt Walburga had burned her off the family tree, blasted old hag that she was. Her heart twinged painfully as she thought of her little cousins, Sirius and Regulus, who would be forced to endure their mother's anger over Andromeda's actions. She would have to find a way to apologize to them, to make it up, but for now she had to find someplace to stay.

Ted had given her his address in the event that she found an opportunity to write to him. Of course, she'd had no such opportunity, so she crossed her fingers that showing up on his doorstep would be a more pleasant surprise than a letter.

4317 Boxcar Lane.

Andromeda took a deep breath and rapped her knuckles against the chipped white door. A soft yellow light was streaming through the sheer curtains that flanked the door, muffled voices could be heard just beyond the threshold, and Andromeda's heart pounded painfully in her ribcage as she waited for that door to open.

And open it did, just as she was about to be physically ill with nerves, and Andromeda was faced with a tall man, taller than Ted – blimey, was everyone in his family this tall? – who smiled kindly down at her.

"Well, good evening," he said jovially, a twinkle in his blue eyes that were so reminiscent of his son's. "And who might you be?"

"Andromeda Bla– actually, you know, it's just Andromeda," she told him, uncomfortable with using her surname now that everything had come to such a disastrous head. "I'm so sorry to barge in like this, but I'm a – friend – of Ted's, and I was wondering if he might be home?"

The man's smile widened. "A friend, eh?" he said, not believing her for a second, but he stepped aside and motioned for her to enter. "Well, then, come in, my dear. Any friend of Ted's…"

Andromeda returned his smile, somewhat weakly due to her exhaustion, but grateful all the same. He looked down the hall and shouted jokingly for his son to "get your skinny arse down here," then turned back to Andromeda and held out a hand for her to shake.

"Richard Tonks," he said, his square-palmed hand enveloping Andromeda's in a firm grip. "Lovely to meet you."

"And you, sir," Andromeda said, her smile broadening in spite of herself.

Just then there was a loud shout from down the hallway, accompanied by the distinct sound of running, thumping footsteps, and Ted appeared, disheveled and grinning with a small boy laughing as he clung to his brother's shoulders. Ted was making loud helicopter noises and his brother was screaming with mirth, shouting, "Faster, Teddy, faster!"

Ted, however, had just caught sight of Andromeda, and he skidded to an abrupt halt, his grin falling with his jaw in surprise. Andromeda's own smile weakened again and she wondered if this had really been the best idea, but she hadn't had anywhere to go, so…

Richard Tonks cleared his throat pointedly as he made his way towards his sons. He plucked the younger one from Ted's shoulders and said, "Come on, Johnny, these guys are boring. Let's go watch some telly, eh?"

"Weeeee!" Johnny's delighted shouts could be heard through the house as his father carted him away to the den, and then Ted and Andromeda were left alone in the entryway.

It was quiet then, except for the faraway sounds of Johnny and the television down the hall. Andromeda shifted from foot to foot and toyed with the strings of her sweatshirt, waiting for Ted to break the silence because she wasn't quite sure how.

Ted caught on after a moment, so he cleared his throat and, still reeling from the shock of seeing Andromeda Black in his hallway, said, "What are you doing here?'

"Um…" Andromeda bit her lip, then released it, unsure of where to begin. "I'm sorry. I just –"

"No, don't apologize." Ted shook his head. He didn't want her to think he wasn't happy to see her; it was just taking some time for his brain to catch up to his eyes. "I just, you know, I wasn't expecting you, and –"

"Right, I know," Andromeda said, nodding a bit erratically as she scrambled for an explanation, "and that's why I'm sorry. But I didn't have anywhere else to go. I wouldn't have come if I did, but I couldn't go back to Hogwarts yet, not now, and – I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, maybe I should go."

"No, Andromeda, stop." Ted closed the distance between them and caught the hand that Andromeda had been reaching towards her trunk. "I don't want you to go. I'm sorry, I'm just surprised, that's all. But –" he paused, frowning as he searched her face for some clue, some hint of something – "why do you need somewhere to go?"

Andromeda bit her lip again and stared down at the fingers that were interlaced with Ted's. She released her lip and the breath that she'd been holding. "My mum – she found out."

"Oh." Ted's eyes widened as it all suddenly fell into place: Andromeda on his doorstep, trunk in hand, looking lost and tired and miserable, and her mother knew. He didn't know how and it didn't matter, and Andromeda just nodded, her lip caught between her teeth again as she tried to avoid the pain of familial estrangement.

"Oh, Jesus." Ted released a long breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Fuck. Okay. Let's – come on, let's go downstairs, that's where my room is."

"Er –" Andromeda's gaze moved down the hall where Richard and Johnny had disappeared, and Ted grinned.

"Don't worry about it," he assured her as he grabbed the handle of her trunk in his free hand and began to lead her towards the staircase. "Dad's probably just glad that I've got a girl over here; he was starting to lose faith that he'd get to play granddad before Johnny got old enough to date."

Andromeda allowed herself a small laugh, trying not to remember the way her mother had reacted when she found out that Ted had been in her bedroom.

They went downstairs, and Ted led her across an expansive and furnished basement to a room at the other end. He flipped the light on to reveal a cluttered space, the walls covered in band posters, the floor scattered with books and records, and the dresser crowded with folded clothes that he hadn't bothered to put away. He stowed Andromeda's trunk at the end of his unmade bed and settled down on the mattress, pulling her down with him so that their backs slouched against the wall.

He didn't let go of her hand.

They sat in silence for a moment. Andromeda's chest hitched with the effort it took to breathe through the hopelessness that was getting the better of her, and Ted's fingers tightened their hold on hers.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

"I just don't know what I'm going to do." Andromeda turned her eyes towards the ceiling, trying to avoid the tears that were threatening to fall. "I can't go back there, my family's done with me, Merlin knows what's going to happen when we get back to school, what my sisters are going to say, I just – I don't know."

"Hey." Ted shifted so that he was facing her. His free hand went to her face, wiping away those uncharacteristic tears that she couldn't hold back anymore. "Andromeda, love, don't cry. I'm right here for you, okay? I better be, anyway, this is sort of my fault –"

"Oh, bugger, I _am_ crying, aren't I?" Andromeda let out a shaky laugh and wiped at her tears. "Damn. I was doing so well."

Ted smiled and kissed her hair. "You can stay here. Dad'll be thrilled to have a girl around, someone to keep us on our toes. We've been a right bunch of slobs ever since Mum died."

Andromeda swiped at her damp face again and shook her head. "No, I – I can't ask your dad to do that. I can –"

"No." Ted dipped to catch her lips with his. "You can't."

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"I want you to stay here."

Andromeda sighed, and her over-bright eyes searched his face for something, whatever that something was, she didn't know. But then Ted's fingers tightened again, and his thumb swept soothingly back and forth across her knuckles, and he was smiling so imploringly at her and it was making her heart do that thing it always did with him, that thing that told her he was worth everything she was giving up…

She sighed again and pushed a hand through his hair. "Okay," she told him, "I'll stay."

His smile brightened, dimming his momentary self-doubt, and he leaned in to kiss her again. "Thank you," he murmured against her lips, then pulled away. "Let's go back upstairs, yeah? I'll show you how good I am at the stove."

"You're going to cook for me?" Andromeda said, unable to hide her surprise and amusement as Ted pulled her back to her feet and led her back across the basement.

Ted nodded. "And you're going to eat whatever I make you, no matter how God-awful it is, in order to spare my very tender feelings."

Andromeda snorted but didn't say anything else. It was, however, quite nice to smile and mean it for the first real time in twelve hours.

Perhaps things weren't so hopeless, after all.

* * *

_A/N: So remember how I said this would be the last chapter?_

_Well. I lied. _

_I like this story and I'm not ready to give it up, so expect more Tedromeda coming your way. Again, for my Jily followers, I'm still working on that, too, but this is a nice deviation when I need a break from the complexity of the ARE trilogy. So huzzah for canon OTPs, and I'll see you back here for Chapter 6!_

_Reviews are pancakes... ;D –K._


	6. The Admission

**6. The Admission**

_Move a little closer, hold me tighter  
I'll stay if you're gonna keep me in line, in line  
Don't want it to be over – move, move slower…  
You won't regret anything we do…  
– New Found Glory –_

* * *

"Ted, _stop_," Andromeda said, even as her fingers twisted in his hair and her laugh broke on a moan.

"Shhh." Ted's breath shuddered out against her stomach as he ran his mouth over the smooth expanse of her ribcage. He moved back to the center and traveled lower. "They'll hear you."

Andromeda bit her lip but couldn't help the next moan that escaped when the tip of Ted's tongue trailed down the line of her stomach. "It's called a Silencing charm," she told him, glancing around at the closed bed hangings as if that would help her ascertain whether or not Ted's roommates could hear them. "We should use it."

Ted glanced up and offered her a wicked grin. "I like it better this way."

"Oh my _god_." Andromeda really did laugh that time. Her head tilted back onto the pillow, exposing the length of her throat, and Ted felt his pulse jump and he moved to work his mouth against her neck instead. Andromeda sighed and closed her eyes, twining her fingers back into his hair.

Ted's lips curved up against her skin, the tip of his nose traced her ear, and he inhaled the sweet honey scent of her long, lush hair. He felt her body quiver when he traced the line of her waist with his fingers, her sharp intake of breath when he bit her earlobe.

He was happy that she was happy – seemed happy, anyway; Ted was never sure. One minute Andromeda would be smiling, laughing, glowing with positivity, and the next her face would fall, her shoulders slumped, her demeanor slackened entirely. Usually that happened when they were out in the castle or on the grounds, when they'd see other Slytherins, the friends who had dropped her after Easter, and especially when she caught sight of Narcissa. Her sister determinedly avoided her gaze, acted as though Andromeda was invisible, and it was obviously taking a toll.

So whenever Ted could make her happy – when he could hold her hand or kiss her or make her smile – then he was happy, too. She'd given up everything for him, and the least he could do was make sure it was worth it.

She seemed unsure sometimes, distant, and Ted didn't wonder why. She'd been betrayed, abandoned, forsaken by the people who were supposed to love her unconditionally, so naturally her trust would be tainted. Ted hated that he had to bear the brunt of her family's mistakes, but he'd worked this hard and come this far, and he was determined to continue on the same way. Andromeda needed him, and he…

"I love you."

Andromeda's body stiffened and Ted shifted so he could meet her eye. Her skin was flushed and she blinked up at him, confused, not sure that she'd heard him correctly when he murmured against her skin.

"What?" she said, sure that she'd misheard those muffled words.

"I love you," Ted repeated, very sure that he meant it. Of course he meant it.

"I –" Andromeda's brow furrowed and her lips pressed together in a thin line. "I'm confused."

Ted tried for a smile, despite how nervous he was that Andromeda was about to give him a thanks-but-no-thanks kind of answer. "I could keep telling you until it gets through your head, I guess," he suggested lightly.

Somehow, over the frantic beating of her heart, Andromeda managed to return Ted's smile, although hers was less tentative. He'd caught her off-guard, yes, but that was more because love felt like such a foreign thing to her lately. She'd thought her family loved her (as cold as they were, families were, after all, supposed to be about love), and that turned out to be rubbish. She'd thought there was love among her friends (lacking in affection as they were, friends were supposed to care), and that turned out to be a bust, too. Where there was meant to be unconditional love, there was love dependent on just the right conditions, conditions which Andromeda had failed to meet, and thus love evaporated.

But now…

Here was Ted, hovering over her, looking more nervous than he probably knew, and he was offering it, putting his heart on his sleeve just for her, and for what? Andromeda didn't know, but it seemed to her that it was just because. Ted loved her just because, the way love was supposed to work.

"Andromeda…" Her name rolled of his tongue, doused in an unprecedented panic. "Are you going to say something, or are you just trying to figure out which hex you want to hit me with?"

Andromeda shook her head. "I'm sorry, I'm just – you sort of hit me with that pretty suddenly, and –"

"You know what, we can just pretend like –"

"Ted –"

"– like it never happened, or I suppose I could lie and take it back, if that's what you want –"

"But I –"

"– really, whatever you want, just tell me and I'll –"

"Ted, I love you, too."

It was Ted's turn to blink. His throat dried up and his heart stopped working properly and he couldn't really breathe. "You – you do?"

Andromeda rolled her eyes. "No, Ted, I'm making it up."

"You love me?" His face split into a smile, in a state of I-can't-believe-it delirium, and Andromeda's lips mirrored the curve of his. "Really, you're sure, or are you –"

"You bet," Andromeda said on another laugh. "I sure as hell love you."

Riding high on the delirium of those three, little-big words, he kissed her, lips clinging onto the taste of toothpaste and four-letter words. Their mouths opened in time with one another, tongues slipping past lips and over each other, teeth clashing once or twice in their eagerness.

Ted's hands moved to her hips and Andromeda's legs wound around his, making him groan into her mouth when she yanked him closer. He thrust a little against her, pushing gently. Andromeda's back arched, pressing her body more firmly into his, and her fingers twisted tightly into his hair. Ted's hands moved up from her hips then, pressing, rubbing into her skin, her bones, heating them, sparking. Andromeda moaned softly, causing Ted's breath to hitch in his chest and he pushed a little harder, more insistently, just to hear her make that sound again, and she did and it drove him crazy.

Their bodies slid against each other, hard and fast and over and over again, and their heartbeats pounded against their ribcages, through their muscle and skin and bone, and his hand was just slipping between their bodies, reaching for the snap on her trousers, when –

"Hey, Ted, d'you wanna – oh. Shit. Sorry, guys."

Ted and Andromeda broke apart to see Brad Fletchley and Gregory Abbott, who, unaware that their bunkmate had company, had pulled the bed hangings apart and were now looking rather embarrassed about their decision.

"No problem," Andromeda said as her legs dropped from around Ted's waist. She tugged her shirt down to cover her stomach.

"I dunno, I think it's sort of a problem," Ted disagreed, frowning when he felt Andromeda pull at her shirt. He wasn't thrilled about having that skin hidden away. He wrapped his arms around her and laid his head against her chest, turning to look at his friends. "What do you tossers want, anyway?"

"Trying to get a look at your half-naked girlfriend, duh," Gregory joked. He winked at Andromeda, who winked back just as cheekily.

Ted, however, glared at him; maybe it was all right that Andromeda had readjusted her shirt, after all. "You prick," he said. "But seriously, what is it?"

"We're supposed to be working," a new voice put in, and Marcus Smith poked his head into the opening of the bed hangings. He was much less jovial than Brad and Gregory, and there was a definite sort of glower on his face. "I realize you're _busy_, Tonks, but we've got a Transfiguration project to get through that some of us actually care about."

"Fuck, Marcus, pull the stick out of your arse, eh?" Gregory said, shoving him.

"Er – that's fine," Andromeda said. She pushed gently at Ted's chest to get his weight off her. "I should go, anyway, I told Dana we'd work out that Potions essay together."

Ted caught her hand as she began to move off the bed. "Hold on a second," he said to her, and the others took the hint and ducked out of view.

"Ted, it's fine," Andromeda muttered. She was a little miffed – she always was when it came to Marcus Smith – but it wasn't worth having a fit over. "I really did promise Dana that I'd work on that assignment with her tonight. I'm probably late to meet her as it is."

"All right," Ted said, a little worried as he searched her face for some trace of annoyance or discomfort. He thought he saw something, maybe, flash in her eyes, and his grip on her hand tightened. "Hey, don't worry about – you know. That. Him. He just says stupid shit sometimes."

Andromeda shrugged. "No big deal, really; I've gotten worse stupid shit lately, so this is practically nothing."

Ted wasn't quite sure what to say to that, so he simply leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth. "Yeah, well, I love you, anyway," he said, and was relieved to see a little bit of light return to her face at the words.

She turned her face into his to catch his lips. "And I love you, anyway, too."

"So that's a rain check on the I-love-you shagging that my mates so disastrously interrupted, then?" Ted asked teasingly yet hopefully.

"Swear that we'll use a Silencing charm and yeah, I think we can make that happen." Andromeda smiled, kissed him once more, and with Brad's assurance that Dana was still up in her dorm, she left them to whatever devices boys had when they were left alone.

Ted twisted his bed hangings all the way open and turned immediately to Marcus. He knew that his friend's snide comments bugged Andromeda more than she'd admit out loud, but Ted wasn't averse to calling any of his mates out on their shit, especially when it was so unnecessary.

"Okay, Marcus," he said, not caring when he was unable to mask his irritation, "so what the hell's your problem?"

Unperturbed by Ted's very apparent attitude, Marcus shrugged. "Nothing, just that ever since the two of you went public, she's sort of around. All the time."

"Don't be an ass," Ted said, not missing the way Marcus pettily refused to so much as use Andromeda's name.

"Doesn't she have her own friends?" Marcus wanted to know, not bothering to even feign civility since Ted hadn't granted him that courtesy, either.

"Not anymore," Ted muttered, another flash of annoyance shooting through him as he thought of the way Narcissa Black had so easily turned a blind eye to her sister. "Just – shut up, Marcus, she spends half her time with Dana, anyway, and she's been nothing but nice to you."

That much was true, and they all knew it. Andromeda Black was much more amendable than the other Hufflepuff boys had expected from someone of her House, stature, and family. She was nice, good-humored, intelligent, and she'd slipped quite amicably into their lives. Brad, Dana, and Gregory got along with her famously and were happy to call her a friend, but Marcus was a bit more cold-shouldered than all of that, and he was too obvious about it for it to go unnoticed. Andromeda let it pass and Ted had begrudgingly followed suit, but at some point enough was enough, and they seemed to have reached that point.

Marcus, however, wasn't quite finished.

"Hasn't she been treating you like rubbish, though?" he pointed out like it made a difference. "You had to sneak around for months just because she didn't want to admit you were dating."

"You're an idiot." Ted knew that was a lame argument, but he was too fed-up to care.

"Whatever, Ted." Marcus rolled his eyes. "You think she's different, but she's still a Slytherin. She's still a _Black_."

As tense as the situation was, Brad jumped in to say, "Come on, Marcus, you know she's not that bad – not like the rest of them at all, really. Her and Dana are practically attached at the hip, and you know Dana doesn't bother with anyone unless they're seriously nice."

But Marcus remained unimpressed and completely unmoved. "Yeah, _nice_, right," he scoffed, "well, personally, I don't want to wait around for her to call Ted a Mudblood and dump his sorry ass."

"Too far, mate," Gregory piped up with a low whistle.

"Too right it is," Ted said through clenched teeth, glaring at Marcus. "You weren't this much of a complete arse when I was just fancying her from afar or whatever, so I don't know what your problem is now."

"Yeah, well, she wasn't hanging 'round all the time when you just fancied her," Marcus reminded him. "I figured you thought she was a hot piece and that was it. Figured you'd get it out of your system after you screwed around a bit but no, now you're just a sucker for some bint who's probably using you."

"Shut the fuck up, Marcus," Ted snapped. "I can't believe you're pulling this shit. Yeah, I bet she's just using me, right, that's why she got herself kicked out of her house, just so she could keep right on _using me _–"

"Hey, if you want to keep living in your fantasy world, go ahead," Marcus cut across him. "Be my fucking guest, Ted, but don't come crying to me when you realize that she's just another Death Eater groupie like her sisters –"

That's when Ted hit him. His fingers curled into a fist and he swung, landing his knuckles right into Marcus's eye. He wasn't sure why he did it then; he didn't know what was so much worse about the last thing that he'd said, that it was so much more black eye-worthy than everything else that had come out of his big mouth, but Ted just snapped. He called bollocks on his wand and he hit his stupid friend, and then his stupid friend hit him right back and they kept hitting, swearing, cursing, until Brad and Gregory managed to get ahold of them both and pulled them, struggling fiercely, away from each other.

"Oy!" Gregory yelled, holding tight to Marcus, who was squirming furiously, trying to free himself so he could land another shot to Ted's face. "Calm the hell down, will you?"

"_Both_ of you!" Brad added, keeping an equally firm hold on an equally writhing Ted.

"Whatever." Ted yanked free from Brad's hold and took several steps back, away from all of them to prevent himself from lunging at Marcus again. His chest was heaving with suppressed rage as he kicked his trunk open and grabbed a sweater. "What the fuck ever. I'm out of here."

Marcus scowled. "Yeah, well, you can stuff your shit attitude, Tonks, because we've still got a project to work on."

Ted's messy-haired head emerged from the sweater and he flipped him off. "Go to hell, Smith."

"Look –"

"_Hell_, Smith. Go there." Ted made his way to the door without looking back. "Tell McGonagall that you're a lousy, _bleeding_ sod, and I had to skip out to keep from killing you, I don't care, but I'm out of here."

He pulled the door open more violently than was necessary and slammed it back shut so that it shuddered in its frame, and – ignoring the muffled calls from his friends to come back – he disappeared down the staircase, thinking that a good hours-long flight around the Quidditch pitch might assuage his royally pissed-off state.

_She loves me_, he told himself, pushing a frustrated hand through his hair. His left eye throbbed from where Marcus's fist had made contact. _Screw him. She loves me. _That, Ted supposed, was quite enough. Andromeda had given up everything for him, and he thought the least he could do was break his knuckles for her in return. He flexed his sore fingers and smiled despite the pain, the anger, and despite himself in general.

Right along with Andromeda's disinheritance, it was, of course, very much worth it.

* * *

_A/N: So I had this total brain relapse, right, about Ted's friends Dana and Brad. They were meant to be a little joke, like they grow up to be the parents of Justin Finch-Fletchley (who we meet in CoS), and I just remembered… He was a Muggle-born. So. Failsauce. This is of absolutely no consequence, really, I just wanted you guys to know that I don't completely suck; things just slip my mind when I'm in the midst of the creative process._

_Anyway, update on the plans for this story: I'm thinking ten chapters will wind it up nicely. I don't want to give you a for sure estimate, considering that didn't work out so well last time, but ten is what I'm thinking now, and I'll keep you posted. See you for Chapter 7!_


	7. The Question

**7. The Question**

_Let me be your ride out of town  
Let me be the place that you hide  
We can make our lives on the go  
Run away with me…  
– The Unauthorized Autobiography of Samantha Brown –_

* * *

Andromeda hated the hospital wing.

It wasn't that the mattresses were lumpy or that the smell of antiseptic was suffocating or that Madam Pomfrey was overbearing (well, not _much_, anyway), but the thing Andromeda really hated about the hospital wing was the fact that you couldn't run away from your visitors. And one of the last people Andromeda wanted to see after a particularly heated duel with Lucius Malfoy was his betrothed.

But there she was – Narcissa Black, loyal daughter and consequently estranged sister – hovering at the side of Andromeda's bed, her usually composed self ever-so-slightly rattled as her pale eyes refused to meet the pair of dark ones across from her.

Finally, when the silence hung too heavily between them for Andromeda to stand, she said, "What are you doing here, Narcissa?"

The youngest Black flinched at the harsh tone of her sister's voice, which used to be so much warmer, more affectionate, and she used to call her Cissy and they used to love each other.

"I'm sorry Lucius started that fight," she said to the bedside table.

"Not like I wasn't expecting it," Andromeda replied coolly. She was a bit surprised that Narcissa had apologized, let alone shown up at the infirmary in the first place, but the pain in her ribs was still too pressing for her to pay much mind to anything else. "Anyway, I'm sure he's even more sorry. He's at the end of the ward, you know; passed out cold, if you'd like to see him."

Narcissa's jaw twitched. "All thanks to your Hufflepuff friends."

"Not that I'm ungrateful for his help, but Marcus Smith is hardly my friend," Andromeda snorted, thinking of the fight he and Ted had gotten into not too long ago. They'd patched their relationship up just fine, and since then both Marcus and Andromeda had made more of an effort with each other, but that didn't mean it was all smooth sailing. Still, though… "He just knows where his loyalties lie."

"Unlike some people I could mention." Narcissa's tone was bitter as she spit out the words that were coated in unspoken accusations.

"Is there a reason you're here?" Andromeda snapped, her own cool exterior faltering as her anger piqued.

Still refusing to lock gazes, Narcissa's voice lost some of its resolve, too, when she muttered to the table, "I wanted to make sure you were all right. Just because you forsake the family for a Mudblood doesn't –"

"Ted," Andromeda cut across her, her own voice like steel now. "He's not a _Mudblood_, his name is Ted. And I'll have you know that I didn't forsake anything. It was our dear mother who cast the first curse and then proceeded to tell me she never wanted to see me again."

Silence hung between them once more, this time broken by Narcissa when she said, "You did it first, though. Don't you see that?" She was almost desperate but kept that, for the most part, to herself. "If you'd just kept away from that – _boy_ – then none of this would have happened. I thought you were only snogging him, I thought that I could get through to you, or Bellatrix could. I thought there was still time, but you wouldn't listen, and for what?"

Pale blue eyes met soft brown ones then, and there was a note of finality in the gaze.

"For what, Andromeda?" Narcissa wanted to know. "We loved you, and you gave that up for just some bloke."

"Well, I suppose that's the difference, then, isn't it?" Andromeda said. "You _loved_ me, past tense, and 'just some bloke' happens to love me for good."

Before Narcissa could so much as articulate a response to that, the bloke in question had pushed open the doors to the hospital wing and was hurrying up the ward to Andromeda's bed, his face painted with a mixture of worry about her condition and relief that she seemed to be more or less as she always was.

"Jesus Christ," he breathed when he reached her. Completely oblivious to Narcissa's presence, he sat down on the mattress and his hands ghosted over Andromeda's face, her neck, her hands – wherever bruises lingered on her skin, Ted's fingertips touched. "Are you all right? Marcus found me, said you were here. I didn't know what to think."

"I'm fine, Ted," she told him, waving away his concern. Apart from the pain in her ribs that Madam Pomfrey had assured her would cease, she felt just as fine as she said. "I'm doing better than Malfoy, that's for sure –"

As those words fell from her lips, Andromeda looked up to see her sister's reaction, but was met only with the empty space where Narcissa once stood. She looked down the ward then and saw the hangings around Lucius's bed fluttering closed, a sheet of platinum hair catching the light for only a moment before those hangings hid it. Andromeda felt a pang in her chest at the disappearance, but there was nothing to be done for it – there hadn't been, not for a long time now – so she put it out of her mind and turned back to Ted with a reassuring smile.

"I really am okay," she reiterated, as his face was still lined with worry. "I've been on my guard for months and it paid off. Surprised it took this long for any of them to pull their wands on me, but I guess things are getting worse outside; they've got to blow off steam somehow, and I'm an excellent target, apparently."

"Bloody wankers," Ted muttered, anger flashing behind his eyes. What he wouldn't give to have been in Marcus's place, to jam his wand into Lucius Malfoy's throat for marking Andromeda's skin… "I'm so sorry I wasn't there."

Andromeda shook her head. "Don't be. If it _had_ been you, you'd be so much worse for wear than I am." She ran her fingers through his hair, reveling in the feel of it because it meant that he was all right, that he was safe from what she'd been through. "It's not worth it, really."

Ted closed his eyes and released a long, unsteady breath as he leaned into Andromeda's touch. As relieved as he was to see her in one piece, he'd rather not see her damaged at all; she'd already been so emotionally broken, and now here she was, reaping the physical consequences of her family and former friends' betrayal. He wanted to fix her, as much as she would let him, and he wanted to be there to support her while she put her own pieces back together, too.

"Andromeda…" He caught the hand that was still running through his hair and pulled her towards him, capturing her lips with his in one fluid motion. His free hand went to hold the back of her neck, clutching at loose strands of her long hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss as he nudged her lips apart to taste her. She tasted beautiful and he never wanted to let that go.

"Marry me," he said as soon as they broke apart, hardly giving either of them a moment to breathe before he made the request. "Just –" he kissed her again, hungrily, frantically – "marry me."

Shocked at the question and still breathless from the kiss, Andromeda blinked a few times, trying to catch up to this turn of events. "You – wait – _what_?"

"Too much?" Ted guessed, a nervous but understanding smile crossing his face. He knew that perhaps he'd gone a little too far, but he couldn't help but say it out loud just as soon as the thought had crossed his mind. "Was that too much? D'you want me to back it up a bit?"

"You want to marry me?" Andromeda said, confused and not quite sure she'd heard him right. It was like the first time he'd said he'd loved her all over again – it was fast and it was crazy and it was wonderful and it was taking her a moment to process it all.

"Yes. That." He leaned back a bit and nodded, as if he were assuring himself; he'd already said it, so he might as well go down with the consequences with at least a semblance of his dignity intact. "That was the idea."

Andromeda just continued to stare at him, dumbfounded and dry-mouthed. Her eyes flicked once down the room to those closed curtains, making sure that her sister hadn't overheard any of the exchange, and then her eyes were back on Ted and she declared, "You've got some kind of death wish, Ted Tonks."

"What is that, a threat?" Ted teased her a little to relax the paranoia that she was going to turn him down. "Because you could just say no, we don't have to get violent –"

"You want to marry _me_," she interrupted. She was sure of it now, but what she _wasn't_ sure of was that Ted fully comprehended the risks. "Did you forget who I am, or…? Because I'm not quite following."

"Does it matter who you are? 'Dromeda, your – _family_ – what do they matter anymore? They cut you off, they let you go, and I never want to do that," Ted said, his tone shifting from disgusted to soft, reassuring, as he entwined their fingers and squeezed. "I want to be your family now."

Ted waited then, watched as Andromeda's eyes flashed with surprise, concern, love and want and need, and he was desperate for her to say something, anything – yes, no, sod off, yes, yes, _yes_, he needed that yes…

"You want to marry me," Andromeda said again, breaking through his frenzied mantra. It was a statement, not a question, this time. She was still dazed, but it was sinking in and the words warmed her bones, sent tingles along her muscles and nestled contentedly into her stomach.

Ted resumed his nodding. "I do, yeah."

"Okay. Well." Andromeda sucked in a deep breath and mirrored his erratic nodding. "I want to marry you, too."

"Oh." Ted's eyebrows shot up and so did his heart. "Well. Good. That worked out, then."

Andromeda smiled and Ted laughed, and he kissed her again and then they were both laughing, light-headed with relief and an easy-heartedness that was so rare to them – to everyone, really – nowadays. All thoughts of duels and hexes and bruises, of the bed at the end of the ward and forsaken families, were banished from their minds as their fingers tangled and lips continued to collide.

Once, for just a moment, Andromeda's old family motto flashed again in her mind's eye, and her smile only widened as she kissed her Muggle-born boy. He flicked his wand and the bed hangings slid around the metal rod, enclosing them in muted afternoon light. He pushed her back into the mattress, his mouth eager against hers and their hands hurrying to unfasten buttons before the nurse could catch on to what they were doing.

Ted's hands traced the contours of her body, and there it was – the Black family crest, flitting into Andromeda's field of vision –

They stifled laughter with kisses, and she felt so much better, like she was so much more, than _Always pure_.


End file.
